


Not a Day Goes By

by Genie60



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genie60/pseuds/Genie60
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reflections on an eventful night and the revelations it brought</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Day Goes By

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own anything, again, except my ideas
> 
> Second one shot from Demelza's POV. No surprises here. Just some inner thoughts that popped into my head. Again. Pure, unadulterated Romelza fluff.
> 
> Credit to Stephen Sondheim for the use of the title.

She stood in the doorway of their bedroom staring at him as he lay in bed. A chill ran through her but she wasn’t sure if it was the coolness of the night air or the emotions of earlier that made her tightened the woolen shawl around her body.  Her shift offered little protection so she walked to the fire that still blazed and sat on the chair next to it, in an attempt to absorb some of its heat.

Looking over her shoulder at the form under the covers, her mind replayed the night a little at a time: her new dress, the luxuriant dinner, her dining partner who laughed at everything she said, her handsome husband sitting opposite her, offering a smile of encouragement every now and then. And finally the song.  He knew she didn’t sing for anyone except herself. Not even him. It was a habit, born from her mother, to make chores go faster and days seem less dreary. So when he suggested she entertain his family and friends, she could have killed him. And the look she shot him said the same. She knew he didn’t care; he was pushing her to come out of her “kitchen maid” shell and be the wife he needed.  And wanted, she hoped.  She had caught the end of her rival’s turn at the harp and saw her husband’s grin and vigorous clapping when she finished. And he wanted her to sing a silly song after that?  Yes, she really could have killed him.  Right there in his family’s ancient home.  And she wouldn’t have cared.  But she loved him. She’d loved him all along with a love that came from somewhere so deep she couldn’t ignore it if she tried.  So tonight, in the words of an old village folk song,  she told him.  She hadn’t planned it.  And she wasn’t even sure he’d realize what she was doing. That is until she looked up and saw his eyes reflect what was in her heart.  It was almost too much and it took all her will power to keep from crying.  She held her composure, not letting the tears that gathered fall.  She smiled at him and knew:  he loved her too. 

She turned and gazed upon him again. His hair was wild and untamed; a perfect reflection of his personality.   No matter how much he tried to keep it in place, or have it conform to society’s norm, it always found a way to rebel. Just like him. And she wouldn’t take him any other way.  If it wasn’t for his going against the grain, she might still be on that street, fighting for her dog or herself. She wouldn’t be his wife, living under his roof, carrying his child and loving him.

She curled her feet up under her and wrapped her hands around her waist. This child was the proof of her love for him.  And now she knew, it was also proof of his love for her.  In those moments after the song was finished, there was no one else in that room except the two of them.  And she was happy.  Happier than she ever thought she could be.  She never dreamed in all her life that she would be in this position.  Her future was slated to be a miners wife in a poor village with no future and most likely with no love.  She gives thanks every day for the moment this man saved her life and took her in.  She was grateful and prepared to be the best servant possible. So when that morphed into something else, while she was scared, she wasn’t surprised.  She knew, from the moment he put her on that horse, this man and she were destined to cross paths. Fate brought them together but love would make them last.  He may not realize it, but she did.  Till her last breath, the dark haired man, with the scar on his cheek would be her life.  The thought brought a faint smile to her face. Her unborn child must have felt her mother’s love as well because a sudden fluttering under her hand made her jump.

The fire was low, so she put another log on and decided she’d stayed up long enough reliving the recent past. She got up and walked over to the bed, standing and staring at her husband.  She let the shawl drop off her shoulders and placed it at the footboard.  Slowly lifting the covers, she slid into his waiting arms, laying her head on his shoulder. 

He moved ever so slightly at feeling the weight of her on him.

“Demelza”, he murmured, wrapping her in his arms like a cocoon. She snuggled a little deeper into him and closed her eyes.

“Good night, Ross. I love you too.”


End file.
